Stolen Moments
by MsBarrows
Summary: A belated birthday present for serindrana. A short post-game scene featuring Nathaniel Howe and Ser Cauthrien. Set in the same AU as "Oswyn and the Elf"


A glance across the table as conversation flagged, light grey eyes briefly meeting dark blue. A longer look as dessert was served. The faintest of blushes on cheeks surprisingly pale for someone who spent so much time outdoors; but then, she wore usually a helmet, didn't she? In fact it seemed distinctly odd to see her here dressed in silk velvet and sable when steel was more her milieu. Though the deep burgundy fabric trimmed in rich brown fur certainly showed off her pale skin and dark hair to advantage.

Later in the evening, during the dancing, they drifted together in a quiet corner, not quite close enough to be obviously together. They stood looking off in different directions, as if chance alone had brought them close and would soon part them again.

"I wasn't sure you'd be here," she said quietly, covering the words with a sip from her goblet.

"I didn't think I would be," he murmured, studying the dancers stepping through an intricate dance involving long ribbons held by pairs of dancers, with much ducking and weaving. "But Katy wanted more company on the road than just that elf of hers and decided to drag me along at the last minute."

Ser Cauthrien snorted slightly; she'd never much cared for the Antivan, for all that Katy Cousland and Queen Anora both thought highly of him. Perhaps _because_ they though highly of them; he was, after all, an assassin, and of questionable loyalties, and she'd learned suspicion from a master at it.

"Meet me in the garden later," she said quietly, and walked off.

He stood and watched the dance a while longer, occasionally looking to see if she was still in the room. He wished – not for the first time, and likely not for the last – that the two of them could be more open about their relationship. But as the son of the traitor Rendon Howe and the right hand of Loghain Mac Tir respectively, it would be... impolitic... for them to be seen much in each other's company. Even if Queen Anora _had_ named Ser Cauthrien to the post of General of the armies of Ferelden, the post that Loghain had held before her, showing that she, at least, still had perfect faith in Cauthrien's loyalty and abilities. Even if Nathaniel was now a Grey Warden, and no longer a noble, and likely to be the last of the Howes, the line having dwindled down to just him.

She was gone now, he saw the next time he looked around, presumably having finally slipped out into the gardens. He waited some little while, circulating through the crowd, exchanging words with the few people willing to acknowledge his presence at all, and eventually slipped outside into the gardens. He strolled off down one of the many winding paths, wondering which direction Cauthrien had gone. She was unlikely to have lingered anywhere close to the castle itself; not when so many other people were slipping out in ones and two, taking advantage of the warm night and the darkness for discreet little rendezvous. He kept his eyes on the path, ignoring the occasional giggles or gasps that he heard from the shadowed bowers and bushes to either side.

Eventually he'd wandered far enough to hear only silence, and the breeze rustling the leaves, the crunch of his own feet along the gravelled path. He rounded a curve, and saw a dark-haired figure seated on a bench ahead, hair falling loose around her shoulders. For a moment he thought it was her, and then a blond-haired elf stepped out of the shadows, bowing to the woman, and as she lifted her head to smile he saw her profile limned by moonlight, and realized it was Katy, and Zevran. He bit his lip, and considered turning away, but kept walking.

Katherine rose to her feet he approached, she and Zevran both glancing his way.

"Taking a walk?" Katy asked, amusement in her voice.

"Yes. It was rather warm inside," Nathaniel said.

"So I too found it," Zevran said agreeably. "Enjoy your walk... you might find particular interest in strolling by the lily pond," he added, and gave Nathaniel a slight bow before offering Katy his arm.

"Good-night, Nathaniel – enjoy your walk," Katy said as the elf led her away. There was definitely amusement in her voice now.

Nate flushed slightly, but kept walking, and at the next branching of the path took the fork that would lead him to the lily pond. Zevran often saw much and said little, and he was unsurprised when he eventually emerged by the pond to see Cauthrien leaning against a tree, seemingly studying the stars reflected in the mirror-still waters.

She straightened as her walked over to her, and reached out one hand, drawing him closer to her once he took it, back into the heavier shadows beneath the encircling trees. He could only barely make her out in the darkness there, her gown blending into the shadows, only her paler face and hands visible.

He cupped his hands around her face, and leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers in a gentle kiss. Her left hand knotted into the front of his jacket; the other rose to touch fingertips lightly to his cheek. The first kiss led to a second; the second to a third. Kisses on soft lips and the smooth skin of her cheek, the pulse beating in her throat, the hollow above her breast bone, the gentle swell of her breasts where they showed in the decolletage of her dress.

She grasped his head and tugged him upright again, seeming to study him for a moment, though he doubted she could see his face any better than he could see hers; an oval of pale skin, and shadowed eyes reflecting the faint glitter of stars and distant moonlight. She drew him into another kiss, on the lips again, her mouth opening invitingly, her arms – as strong as his, he knew – wrapping around him, holding him close. A velvet-clad thigh pressed between his legs, drawing a groan from him as he tasted her mouth. He slid one of his hands back and down to cup her buttocks, pulling her tight against him, his other hand moving to cup her breast, feeling the hardened nipple hidden by warm velvet.

"Here?" he asked her, hoarsely, as their kiss ended.

She hesitated, then shook her head just the tiniest bit. "Tempting. But too likely to be interrupted, even here," she murmured, and sighed softly, resting her head on his shoulder for a moment. "I don't know if we can make it to my room unseen."

He laughed then, a soft chuckle, deeply amused. "I am not a rogue for nothing. Go... I'll join you there shortly."

She smiled as she lifted her head – he could see well enough to see that – and laughed softly as well. "All right. But give me another kiss first," she said.

He was glad to oblige. It was a very lengthy kiss, all sliding tongues and nipping teeth and wandering hands, promise of what was to come once he joined her in adequate privacy. He was breathless when she left him, breathless and aching. He leaned against the tree, there in the shadows, watching her stroll away while he waited for the ache to fade enough that he could walk properly again. He would need to return to his rooms, he knew – long enough to change into clothes more suited for sneaking around in, anyway. And then they could be together again, for a few hours at least, a single night stolen from duty and responsibility to be theirs alone.


End file.
